


When in doubt, take a nap

by Manyllines



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Nightmares, Oh boy is this another vent fic? hell yeah, Suicide, connor has depression, it's kinda cut so, now for the tags for the nightmare :), this one's messed up folks, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 05:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26468149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manyllines/pseuds/Manyllines
Summary: Connor takes a mental health dayWhich gets worse after a terrible nightmare :)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	When in doubt, take a nap

**Author's Note:**

> To change the cenery a little today we're torturing Connor! :D  
> I made connor have depression cus same
> 
> Decided to dive a little bit in the other endings of detroit, but in a slightly diferent way  
> Please read the tags and be safe!

Connor gazes at the crack on the ceiling he has been looking for the past...hours? His chest falls up and down with each slow breath he takes. He thought of stopping it all together, but stopping his ventilation meant overheating and that, was right now, way more tiresome than taking a simple breath.

Today was...bad.

Bad to the point where getting up from the couch to lay on Hank's bed, the latter’s advice, turned out to be way more troublesome than it should have been.

He’s alone at home right now, Sumo is there of course, somewhere slumbering in the living room, but right now he feels alone, numb and tired.

So incredibly tired.

He feels like crying but can’t because his eyes feel dry, as if he had cried all his tears. Which he hasn’t, not really.

His limbs are like lead, heavy and useless. Why does he even have them, if they’re useless?

He brings a hand to his hair ruffling it with no care, letting it fall down to his face so he can try to rub the heaviness out of it.

It really doesn’t work but the thought is what counts, he guesses.

He turns slowly on his side and stares at the closed bedroom door. ‘Good thoughts’ a little voice says somewhere inside his mind.

If he could smile he would, because that little encouragement sounds oddly like the little notes he leaves around the house for hank.

His eyes drop with fatigue, blurring the room around the edges.

A nap doesn’t sound the worst thing right now.

His mind agrees.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Light shines behind his eyelids, he frowns.

Was Hank home already? Did he turn the light on?

An icy cold breeze hits him in the back and he flinches at the sensation.

Did he leave the window open? How can it be so cold in the middle of July?

He opens his eyes.

He stops short in his motions when, instead of the bedroom wall, he’s greeted by the sight of millions and millions of androids in front of him.

He looks around wildly before gasping in pain.

He blinks his eyes multiple times to get rid of the pain that consumes his head but instead, when he blinks again he finds himself in another unknown location.

No not unknown.

….Certainly not unknown to him.

“Well done, Connor.”

Connor freezes on the spot, his insides constrict at that voice, and he turns very slowly to the direction of the voice.

His eyes widen with fear and he has to contain a gasp of horror.

Amanda.

Standing right in front of him is probably the face he fears the most.

But h-how!? He deleted her this should be-

“Everything went according to plan” she keeps going, seemingly not noticing the literal panic running down Connor's spine.

Plan? What plan? What the hell is going on!?

“What plan?” he asks. No not him, he didn’t even open his mouth how-

Amanda looks at him with indifference.

He physically recoils on himself.

“You becoming deviant?” she lifts an eyebrow at him. “The success of the uprising?”

“It all surpassed our expectations” she goes on.

His stress levels skyrocket.

No no no no no no nO NO!

This can’t be happening—

“We engineered an android revolution. And now we control its leader…”

The smile she gives him is too crooked to the side and too wide, insincere.

His stomach drops.

“Congratulations. You represent an immense success for Cyberlife.”

He’s thrown back momentarily to the lightened podium.

Every android looks up at him, waiting for his next words, his next actions.

His hand moves- no not his hand. He’s too frozen in fear to move a single thing. T—the thing that looks like him. Yes the thing, it’s his body but not _him_.

 _It_ moves and grasps something.

The handle of his gun.

He brings it closer to his face and stares at it, when he stares back, Amanda is glaring at him.

She looks pissed.

G̷͍̲͉̏ö̷̳́̀͝ŏͧ̄̉d̡̖̑.

“...Connor,” she says, stare hard and cold, looking right through Connor’s soul, “what are you doing?”

He trembles in front of her, hugging himself closer.

“It all worked perfectly. You can’t ruin it now!” she screams, desperation coating his voice.

His mouth tics upwards. A sudden rush of giddiness overcomes him at her look of pure raging horror. Oh, how much he had wished to see what he had felt every time he was tormented and manipulated, reflected on her face!

His face falls.

What?

He never— _no!_

Y̧̥̗̟̆ẹͮs̜̳͗͐͜!

No he’s not like that--

Ḑȯ̫̑̃n̊'҉͓̒̐t͚̓ l̗̃̽i̞͐͠͠ḛ̸̌͆̍ ̾͑̉ţ͎͖̰ơ͍͎̘ ͑ͅy͐our̅sͫe̮͈l͈͗̏ͮf c̸̐o̯̟ͧͬn̖̺͋nǫ͓͏r̶̰̊͘͟ :)~

The hand of it moves, bringing the gun under its—his chin.

He panics at the feeling of the cold barrel hitting his skin, making his hairs stand up.

No no no wait! There’s got to be another way! PLEAS—

_BANG_

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He shoots up from where he was laying screaming, which cuts off midway when he gags.

His stomach cramps up and he shoots a hand up to his mouth to stop anything from coming out.

Staggering out of bed as quickly as his shaky legs can, he stumbles inside the bathroom and promptly falls besides the toilet right as everything decides to come out.

He gags and coughs into the toilet bowl, choking in the middle of his tears and liquid coming out of him.

By the time he has his breathing under control sumo is by his side, whining and bumping his head against his elbow.

Connor looks tiredly at Sumo, reaching with a shaky hand for his neck he grabs it with all the energy he has left and hugs the mutt closer. Sumo let’s him, resting his head in the junction between his neck and shoulder, he lets him sob.

Later he will be calmer and he will realize that the ~~nightmare~~ visions he had were a fruit of pre constructions he made months ago. Of the ‘what ifs’ of the revolution. What would’ve happened if he had made this like this or that. Something he only made to keep his mind occupied.

But now he—

He tries to calm himself, while not being able to, because the memories of the dream are still too fresh, too raw in his mind.

They’ll probably hunt him for months, he thinks over and over.

God, he’s so incredibly tired.

**Author's Note:**

> The end :)
> 
> One more vent fic ahoy!  
> As you can see my month is going great :)
> 
> Take care of your mental health dearies, it's an incredibly important thing!  
> I have mixed felling about this one


End file.
